


I am yours, my friend, as the stars belong to the sky

by Cactus_Is_Trash



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Arthur is surprisingly soft when drunk i have decided, Bromance, Drunk Arthur Pendragon, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Constipated Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Friendship, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Grief/Mourning, Humour, Hurt Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Hurt/Comfort, Male Friendship, Merlin is a good friend, Merlin is very tired of Arthur's whole 'feelings dont exist if i dont let them' thing, Minor Swearing, My First Work in This Fandom, Post-Episode: s04e03 The Wicked Day, Sad Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Scruffy Arthur Pendragon, Uther Pendragon's A+ Parenting (Merlin), Vulnerable Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Worried Merlin (Merlin), but it's still about as shippy as the canon show, it was written with friendship in mind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:47:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23872630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cactus_Is_Trash/pseuds/Cactus_Is_Trash
Summary: “Y’know Arthur, you can’t keep going on like this,” Merlin said. It was as good a time as any to finally get into the messy stuff.“I can and I will, Merlin,” Arthur said, lifting the wine again in defiance.“Stop- stop with that bloody bottle,” Merlin tried to swipe the liquor. “You’re already drunk enough as it is.”Arthur kept the glass infuriatingly out of Merlin’s reach in his opposite hand. Usually Merlin found a drunk Arthur hilarious, but this time he couldn’t focus on anything but the cold pit in his stomach.“I will be drunk enough when I say I’m drunk enough….” Arthur took another swig and nodded silently for a moment. “Okay now I’m drunk enough.”Merlin snatched the bottle and put it far out of Arthur’s reach.Arthur Pendragon is not taking his father's death and subsequent Kinghood as well as he thought he could, but he can't very well let the whole kingdom know it. And the whole kingdom just so happens to literally mean every single person, including his friends. Luckily, Merlin is having none of it and with a tip from Gwen that maybe Arthur isn't doing very well that night, he goes to comfort the stubborn prat if it's the last thing he does.
Relationships: Arthur Pendragon & Uther Pendragon (Merlin), Gwen & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Gwen & Merlin (Merlin), Gwen/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), but only implied/referenced
Comments: 19
Kudos: 208
Collections: Scruffy Pendragon Fest





	I am yours, my friend, as the stars belong to the sky

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone, I hope you're having a nice day! The title of this fic is adapted from a poem called Maps by Christopher Poindexter. This is my first work in the Merlin fandom and I'm overjoyed to get it out there! It is also a submission for the Scruffy-Pendragon fest, so an extra wave to those who come from that and a recommendation for those who haven't to go check it out! Massive thanks to my friend and beta reader Icabyppup for editing this! Enjoy!

Camelot castle was quiet at night. Such a thing should be obvious, but it always surprised Merlin. The castle was so alive during the day. The halls carried the voices of servants from three corners away and sometimes he could hear the cook shouting even when he was in an attic. It was lively and warm despite all the stone. Yet at night it was silent. The only people you ever saw were guards half-asleep at their stations. The only sound you ever heard was your own breath.

Usually Merlin was fond of the atmosphere. Normally if he was out and about the castle at night that meant he was doing something highly illegal, so the cover of darkness was a friend and the ability to hear oncoming footsteps a mile away was a blessing. 

Tonight Merlin found it completely uninviting. 

As Merlin stepped down the halls his stomach felt like lead. He shivered once or twice, even though he knew his jacket was keeping him warm. The cold seeped into his bones like ice, as if at any moment he could freeze from the inside out. And he knew, in his heart, that it had nothing to do with the castle. It wasn’t colder than any other night for the last week. The shadows didn’t dance with malice. He didn’t hear any trailing footsteps. His magic didn’t warn him of danger.

No, it wasn’t the castle. Merlin was self-aware enough to realise that the castle only felt this way because Merlin himself was on edge. He knew he had no reason to be, but he couldn’t stop his worrying mind. It was like the calm before the storm. Every hair on his neck stood to attention. 

His jitters didn’t calm until he reached his destination. His nerves hadn’t settled since Gwen had come to Merlin with concern on her face some short hours ago. It had been a week since Uther had died and Merlin still found himself walking on eggshells near Arthur. It was irrational though. The man had held himself together remarkably well since his crowning. Too well.

Which was why Merlin stood there pausing in front of his door, well into the night.

There was something scary and awe inspiring in how quickly Arthur steeled himself in the face of tragedy. It was eerie. Because Merlin knew how broken up Arthur had been about his father’s death. How hard it hit him. And yet he’d picked himself up and kept the kingdom afloat. There was no time for Arthur to grieve. Or at least, he gave himself none. Which was the reason Merlin and Gwen were more worried than proud. 

Merlin cursed himself silently for letting Arthur push him away for this long. 

Yet as Gaius said and Merlin ignored, _“There’s nothing all the bickering and insisting in the world can do for him if he doesn’t want your help.”_

Merlin only prayed that tonight he’d want it.

“Sire?” Merlin said, slowly opening the large wooden doors and slipping inside.

The scene inside the room was appalling.

Arthur’s chair was laying on its side as if it had been tossed away, the papers at his desk were in complete disarray, there was a smashed wine bottle near the wardrobe, a hurricane of clothes strewn about, and a small dagger sticking out of the table.

Merlin blinked at the room with wide eyes.

“Merlin!” Arthur’s voice knocked him out of his shock. “What’re you doing here?”

Merlin crept further from the door to the sound of the prince’s- no, the king’s now- voice. On the floor next to the bed with another bottle (presumably of alcohol) sat a clearly drunk Arthur. His shirt was wrinkled like scrunched paper and Merlin hadn’t noticed until now how long his hair and stubble had truly gotten. If the slurred speech and disheveled appearance didn’t clue Merlin into the content of Arthur’s drink, his almost glazed expression surely did.

“I came to see how you were doing…” Merlin said slowly. “Gwen said she was worried about you.”

Arthur made a displeased face, “Gwen’s too sweet. She’s always worried about me these days.” He took a sip of his drink and screwed up his face in a fashion too dramatic for sober Arthur. “She’s always like, ‘take care of yourself Arthur’, ‘have you been sleeping at all, Arthur?’, ‘if you want to talk about what happened you can, Arthur.’”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Merlin responded. 

“It is!” Arthur cried, waving his arms about. “How am I supposed to be a strong, independent king like my father if every time she says something like that I’m one step closer to actually taking her advice? It’s annoying.”

“I can’t imagine,” Merlin said, humouring him.

Merlin lowered himself next to Arthur on the floor. The new king even scooted over to allow Merlin more room. It was odd for Arthur to allow Merlin to sit so close- only a foot and a half away. It wasn’t like the man had ever physically pushed him away, but it was one of the unspoken barriers between them.

“Of course you can’t,” Arthur said, as it were obvious, “you’re not the prince… well… king now I suppose.”

Arthur looked into the distance for a few long moments unblinkingly before putting the bottle to his lips again.

Okay, that was enough of that.

“Y’know Arthur, you can’t keep going on like this,” Merlin said. It was as good a time as any to finally get into the messy stuff.

“I can and I will, Merlin,” Arthur said, lifting the wine again in defiance. 

“Stop- stop with that bloody bottle,” Merlin tried to swipe the liquor. “You’re already drunk enough as it is.”

Arthur kept the glass infuriatingly out of Merlin’s reach in his opposite hand. Usually Merlin found a drunk Arthur hilarious, but this time he couldn’t focus on anything but the cold pit in his stomach.

“I will be drunk enough when I say I’m drunk enough….” Arthur took another swig and nodded silently for a moment. “Okay _now_ I’m drunk enough.”

Merlin snatched the bottle and put it far out of Arthur’s reach. Task one: stop Arthur from getting alcohol poisoning, was complete. Merlin felt a renewed sense of worry that he didn’t know how much Arthur had already drank, but he didn’t seem likely to pass out and choke on his own vomit. It seemed more likely that he’d choke on his own feelings. Not that Arthur wanted anyone to know he had any, other than anger and snobbish amusement.

As Merlin watched silently, Arthur lifted his knees to his chest and sat his head on them. He looked both bored and pained somehow. It was odd to see his friend look like this.

Merlin gathered his courage and hoped drunk Arthur was more reasonable than sober Arthur, “I’m worried about you.”

That seemed to snap Arthur out of his silence.

“Oh please, not you too,” he complained. “Can’t I get one person who just doesn’t give a shit?”

Merlin would have argued that everyone on his council didn’t give a shit about him, but he thought that maybe voicing treason wasn’t the smartest thing at the moment.

“No,” Merlin said instead. “We’re your friends, Arthur. We care about you. You just have to accept that.”

Arthur waved an arm in a motion that looked like it was supposed to be pointing at him, “No- no you can’t. I’m not allowed it.” Arthur spoke quite plainly, almost like a child. 

“Allowed what?” Merlin asked, confused.

Arthur’s face wrinkled with disconcertion, “To have you all care about me like that.”

Arthur’s hand dropped to his knees, “I can’t let you because then it’s harder for me. I need to be alone and strong and capable and ready and- and- my father would think me a disappointment and a coward if he found out.”

God if it wasn’t bad enough seeing his best friend so upset, the sheer emotion in his voice broke Merlin. It was startling to realise that this was what had been missing the past week. The wavering tone of a man who was in grief. The only inflections he’d heard from Arthur’s mouth as of late were neutral or tightened in anger. No mirth, no sadness, and certainly no vulnerability.

“Arthur,” Merlin said softly, “your father isn’t here anymore to make you do anything.” And maybe that was a bad thing to say to the man’s son. Even if Merlin didn’t like Uther, his son loved him, for better or for worse.

Arthur shook his head, “Well that’s where you’re wrong, Merlin.”

For a very scary moment Merlin wondered if Arthur had finally snapped and gone crazy. It wouldn’t surprise him, really. He’d been under so much pressure lately.

“He’s always in here,” Arthur continued, gesturing to his head. He was staring into space again, but his face was animated. “I know what he would have said and would have done and would have wanted me to do.” 

Arthur’s jaw tightened in a familiar look of resolve, “To be a good king I need to-“

“To be a good king you need to be you, not your father,” Merlin interrupted. “And you need to take care of yourself and let your friends help you.”

Merlin moved himself forward so he could try catch Arthur’s eye, “Please, Arthur. I hate seeing you like this.”

“I’m _can’t_ ,” Arthur said, looking frustrated. “The people have to see I’m fine. I don’t need anyone.”

“That’s bullshit Arthur and you know it!” Merlin cried. “You’re sitting on the floor of your room cradling a bottle of liquor, drunk as a skunk. You can’t seriously think this is okay.”

Arthur shook his head again and Merlin knew he was losing the battle. Arthur was too stubborn for his own good.

“It’s just one night,” Arthur said. Merlin was under the impression he was trying to convince himself as well as Merlin. “Tomorrow everything will be back the way it was.”

“That’s not any better… Please Arthur,” Merlin put a hand on Arthur’s before he could hesitate. “You can’t keep doing this… Just- even just for tonight. Let me be there for you.”

Arthur finally looked Merlin in the eyes. It was horrible, really. Saving Arthur from so many physical threats over the years, only to be so useless when Arthur needed his help emotionally. Merlin didn’t know what kind of gods would hear, but he prayed silently that Arthur would accept his olive branch.

“… Fine,” Arthur said after a long moment. He sniffed a bit and wiped his dewy eyes, looking away again. “Whatever. I don’t even know what that means.”

Merlin let out a sigh of relief and almost laughed. Arthur was letting him help.

But… well he didn’t think he’d get this far so he hoped his improvisation skills were still sharp.

“Well,” Merlin said, “we can start with talking or we can start with the mess that is your face.”

“Hey,” Arthur said indignantly, prodding his face, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

Merlin smiled slightly, “No offence sire, but you’re looking a bit scruffy as of late. How about we get you cleaned up?”

Arthur’s hand dropped and he nodded.

It took an embarrassingly long time to get Arthur on his feet and into a chair. Then Merlin had to trust Arthur not to do anything stupid while he went to go fetch shaving materials. Luckily when he came back Arthur was playing with the dagger stuck in the table and hadn’t moved. Then it was silent as Merlin got rid of the king’s stubble and washed his face. He got the tired royal in bed clothes and sat on the bed with him.

This was the part Merlin was anxious about.

“What now?” Arthur asked, staring at his hands as they played with his nails.

“Um,” Merlin thought for a moment. “What’s the most annoying part of being king?”

It was a poor attempt and Merlin winced at his own words. Arthur, on the other hand, huffed an ironic laugh.

“Probably my father being dead,” Arthur said.

Merlin grimaced and nodded, “Yeah… not surprised.”

Arthur chuckled, “You’re painfully bad at this whole comforting thing, Merlin.”

“Oi,” Merlin shot back, “your idea of a good cheering up is hitting me on the arm.”

“It works with the knights,” Arthur muttered.

“I’m not a knight, last time I checked,” Merlin said.

Arthur squinted at him, “Maybe you should be.”

If Merlin were drinking he would have spat it out, “ _What_?”

“I mean,” Arthur clumsily gestured to him, “you’d need a few years of training obviously, but eventually…”

Funny how Arthur could turn any semblance of a compliment into an insult.

Merlin rolled his eyes, “Why thank you sire.”

“You’re welcome.”

Again, there was silence. Merlin had never been allowed to comfort Arthur before. Not properly, in any case. Arthur either got mad or left before he got the chance to do anything. Merlin now wished he’d gotten more practise.

“Y’know,” Arthur said finally, “I sometimes dream of leaving Camelot.”

Merlin’s head lifted to listen more closely.

“To just…” Arthur trailed off. “Leave. Go somewhere no one knows who I am. For my only responsibility to be over a small plot of land.”

Merlin never pictured Arthur as the farm type.

“I think it would be nice,” Arthur continued. “I’d have Guinevere there with me, of course. We could live happily until we’re old and grey and our children take over our fields. No one would look at us and think she was using me and I was a fool.”

Merlin frowned slightly. He never really thought about how much gossip would follow the two, let alone that Arthur would take it to heart.

Arthur turned his head so he was facing Merlin, “I’d want you to be there too.”

Merlin blinked a few times in shock. Did he hear that right?

“What?” he said dumbly.

But Arthur didn’t laugh or walk away. It wasn’t some unfunny joke. Gaius once said drunk words were sober thoughts. Merlin had never wanted the statement to be more true.

“You’re my closest friend, Merlin,” Arthur said. “I don’t know what I’d do with myself if you weren’t there to tease and bicker with me.”

“Oh,” Merlin really was a wealth of intelligence. “I- Arthur-“

“It’s fine if you don’t feel the same,” Arthur looked back down at his hands in a resigned sort of way. “I know I’m a prat to you. I just… hoped you’d see me as your friend too. You’ve said it a few times, but maybe by now you’re done waiting for me to say it back…”

Merlin put a hand on Arthur’s shoulder to catch his eye again, “Of course you’re my friend. I wouldn’t have any other prat in the world if they gave me the choice.”

He needed Arthur to understand that. He could never tell Arthur of everything he did for him. But if Arthur knew, even somewhat, how true it was that he’d never leave him, then that was okay.

“Thank you, Merlin.”

And so they sat, in the middle of the night, content with each other’s company. It occurred to Merlin that maybe Arthur didn’t need words at the moment. That maybe just a hand on his shoulder and a friend to be with was enough. 

Merlin never really understood Kilgarrah’s whole coin analogy well. He always thought that it was sort of stupid. Sure, a coin needed two sides to be whole, but the sides never faced. It was a depressing thought that Merlin didn’t like. That he and Arthur, no matter how close they got, would never really see each other. As time went on Merlin became scared that it was more accurate than he realised. But even with all the lies between them, Merlin never felt they mattered less than in this moment.

Then, possibly less than an hour later, he felt a small weight on his shoulder. 

Merlin looked to his left and found Arthur’s head next to his. The king fell asleep on him.

Merlin tried to stamp out the smile on his face. For a little while longer he could enjoy the moment. He ran a hesitant hand through Arthur’s hair and was delighted that it didn’t wake him up. Maybe that dragon was right about the two of them. The whole half and half thing. Because Merlin had never felt more at ease than with his arm around his friend sleeping next to him. 

And in the morning Merlin woke up with aching limbs and a cramped neck, only to see Arthur snoring softly next to him still. Merlin thought, then, that maybe running away to some farming village out south with Arthur wasn’t a bad idea after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments, they absolutely make my day! Did you like a certain line? Find a typo? Think I could have characterised someone better? Just wanna scream? I want to hear from you all- I promise I don't bite!


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